


Lines Of Salt Around Your Bed

by CatCalls



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Dark, Eldritch, Horror, M/M, Other, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatCalls/pseuds/CatCalls
Summary: "The clock read 12:45."
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	Lines Of Salt Around Your Bed

The clock read 12:45.

Husk looked at it, feeling like the numbers were important but not being able to figure out why, perhaps, they were the reason why he had woke up, but the night was barely beginning and he hadn't gone to sleep that long ago either. He wasn't feeling tired at all, regardless of that, he needed to sleep.

He waited.

The clock read 12:45.

Husk groaned, annoyed and feeling frustration bubbling up under the surface, the point of moving to this old apartment had been managing to get more rest now that he wouldn't need to wake up at unholy hours to make it to work, being closer to the place, but it didn't seem that it would matter much at all in the end. With every passing second he began to listen more intently to the voracious silence, the imperceptible creaking of the floor and groaning of the pipes. It made uneasiness start to crawl through his skin.

He shuddered, baring his teeth to the darkness and turning around, holding the sheets tighter against his body and focusing on how his breathing evened out, counting onwards and coaxing himself back to sleep.

Around him, the shadows wavered, all talons and teeth, frozen around the sleeping man.

Husk slept.

The clock read 12:45.

…

A radio turned on out of nowhere, Husk lurched forward, a hand on his chest and startled cry coming from his lips. He looked around frantically, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. Dark, peaceful.

The clock stood innocently, waiting for scrutiny and judgement, it read 12:45.

Husk frowned, confusion bleeding through his expression, this felt familiar, somehow. A memory? A dream?

He didn't know, didn't care.

Awake now, he sighed, defeated, and stood up, ready to face his needs and get some water.

His feet connected with the floor and he shivered, grumbling but standing up, taking a moment to take a deep breath and continue his way to the kitchen. He was simply being paranoid, succumbing to stupidity, and clearly, he could do better than that.

Outside of his room, things were mostly the same, the light of the streets filtered through the curtains partially covering the windows, he scanned the expanses of the hall, then the living room, seeing nothing at all aside from the usual silhouettes of furniture. However, after reaching the kitchen and having his thoughts wander around while he began to tend to his thirst, he saw it. Between the darkness, something tall, humanoid in shape but twirling and breaking to rearrange once more, smiling, unnatural and disgusting. Husk felt the liquid catch in his throat and he coughed, flabbergasted and with worry punching him in the gut. The cup fell from his grasp towards the floor, making a mess of glass shards and liquid.

He couldn't look away from the… thing, whatever it was, doing so felt dangerous, but only a blink was enough to make it disappear. His breath hitched, it felt ridiculous but it had happened.

Someone was lurking on his apartment and he needed to find them.

He pulled a knife from one of the drawers, just in case, and began to look around.

The sound of static, light on the background until that point, turned louder, leaving him confused, he followed it to his studio. Seeing it empty, but with the classy radio that had come with the apartment being on. He squinted through the shadows, seeing the thing struggle to find a station to play, sighing while walking and turning the object off, that explained the noise, but not the thing he saw, unless it was an optical illusion or the fragment of a dream.

Whatever it was, it felt more surreal by the second, though, a last exploration of the apartment wouldn't hurt.

He swept the place, feeling eyes on his back from time to time, shivering and growing upset, because there was nothing, nothing at all except from him and his mind.

The static was ringing once again through the atmosphere, but Husk found he couldn't care less, he let his lips form a tight line, eyebrows furrowed in silent rage while he tightened his hold on his weapon. He was sick of this.

He took a detour to the kitchen to dump the knife, then to the bathroom before returning to bed, he needed to clear his thoughts and cold water seemed as much of a good choice as any. The chill bit at his skin in an unpleasant way, but he needed it so he didn't complain, using a towel to dry his face off before looking back to the mirror hanging over the sink, honey eyes stared back and from behind, a grinning man. Husk gasped, stumbling backwards without feeling something, no body to collide with, when he turned to look backwards, he spotted nothing as well, but the figure was still on the mirror. Staring him down, he sneered at it, him, whatever, but it merely tilted its head.

Its movements were still rigid and contorting, not human at all, and it seemed put together out of blood and charcoal, Husk heard his heart pounding on his ears, beating so hard against his ribcage it might as well just fall out. Bony fingers moved to grab at his shoulders and he felt the touch on him.

Husk screeched, lurching forward and away from the touch, colliding with the smooth surface of the mirror, feeling it crack, he groaned in pain, blinking hazily and moving his hand to touch at the wound, tiny drops of blood staining his fingers. His breath hitched, he looked forward when he felt a huff of air hit his face, eery red and yellow eyes stared back at him, fangs gleaming. He scrambled away, hitting something, firm, unmoving, chilly talons held him once again.

He tried to scream but the only thing to come out of his throat was a pathetic whimper. 

Frozen in terror, he saw how the thing on the mirror moved to where the crack had formed with his impact, taking a few of the red smearing the surface and taking it to its maw, licking at it, grinning and pleased, bringing its arms forward and towards him, pulling through the surface of the mirror as it was nothing, into the room, with him.

Husk tried to flee, but the hold on his shoulders moved down to his waist, and the soothing touches that followed the change felt mocking at worst. He sobbed, kicking out and screaming when his throat opened up for him.

A nose was settling on the curvature of his neck, nuzzling, weird and bloodcurdling, with too many sharp points prickling at the delicate skin, breaking through, making him bleed.

He didn't want to look.

So he kept his gaze forward and towards the swirling entity cracking and tearing reality, encompassing the room completely to then take shape in front of him, tall and terrifying, smiling cruel and sweet.

Husk scowled at it through his tears, the thing laughed, said things Husk couldn't understand but that made nausea grow in his gut, gaze wavering.

The entity reached for him again, moving its fingers through his hair, almost lovingly, and settling on the sides of his face, pulling to make him look forward, with no escape.

When cold and foreign lips connected with his own, he could do nothing but thrash around, horrified, feeling like he was burning, consumed by the nightmare holding him completely.

Husk felt like he was about to die, come back as something terrifyingly different. Foreign. Not himself.

…

He woke up.

The clock read 12:45.

**Author's Note:**

> I... yeah.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
